


Give My Life Direction

by JessicaMDawn



Series: The Law for the Wolves [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cora Returns, Danny is a good boyfriend, Derek returns, F/M, Humans to the rescue, M/M, Magic Compass, Magic Stiles, Peter is a Douchenozzle, Rescue Mission, The Alpha Returns, The Sheriff could really do without all this strange magic stuff, True Alpha Scott, emissary stiles, lots of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 04:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5442608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaMDawn/pseuds/JessicaMDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Aiden missing, Danny goes to Stiles for help. Stiles casts a spell he doesn't quite understand and ends up with a magic compass he can't undo. With his strange new tool, Stiles can lead Danny to Aiden - and to the one who took him. But without werewolf protection, are Stiles and Danny strong enough to take on this enemy alone?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give My Life Direction

"Hey, Danny. Thanks for coming over. Look out!"

"Ow!"

"Well you were supposed to block it!"

"You didn't give me time to. You just tossed your math book at me."

"Hey, at least I said 'look out.' Most baddies aren't gonna even give you that. If you're gonna be a member of this pack, you've gotta be prepared, dude."

Danny grumbled as he knelt down to pick up the textbook now at his feet. The pages were crumpled and there was a dent in the corner of the cover, but he was pretty sure Stiles didn't care. At least it hadn't broken any bones or skin when it impacted his arms. At least the rest of the pack was accepting Danny and integrating him in ways that didn't result in unexpected bodily harm.

"I question your teaching methods," Danny said with a sigh as he sat down in Stiles' computer chair, setting the book on the desk.

Stiles plopped down on the bed across the room. "Well being a teacher wasn't really in my future plans, so I'm okay with that." He scratched his cheek. "So, defensive spells or homework?"

Danny frowned. "Start with spells. Once you've got me black and blue, I'll need the break for homework anyway."

His eyes trailed over Stiles' computer on the desk and saw that his facebook profile was open. He and Stiles weren't facebook friends. Jackson hadn't even had one, and most of Danny's friends on there were his family in Hawaii.

There were birthday wishes all over Stiles' wall. Danny's first shock was that it was Stiles' birthday apparently but he'd had no idea, no one had mentioned it at all. Danny's second shock was because of the people sending the wishes.

.

Sugar Rush --> Stiles Stilinski

Happy 18th! You're legal!

_Stiles Stilinski likes this_

**Stiles Stilinski** : Gonna go big this year!

 **Sugar Rush** : Not the only thing that's big going for you, honey. ;D

.

Diamond Dust --> Stiles Stilinski

Birthday wishes to my favorite boy! Now its time to Party! Party! Party!

_Stiles Stilinski likes this_

_._

Esmeralda --> Stiles Stilinski

Miss u beau! Happy b-day from LA!

 **Stiles Stilinski** : Thanks miss you too

 **Esmeralda** : I'll b back by Sat and take u out to celebrate properly

.

Sugar Rush? Diamond Dust? Esmeralda? Why did those names sound so familiar? Oh! They were three of the drag queens that frequented Jungle. Stiles was friends with them? Actually, now that Danny thought about it, Lydia's party had had a lot of drag queens at it last year, but she'd never been to Jungle. Maybe Stiles had invited them. They _did_ know how to throw a party. Then again, that had been the weirdest party Danny had ever been to, so…

Why was it weirder for him that Stiles hung out with the queens from Jungle than it was to accept that supernatural creatures roamed the earth and frequently disrupted life in his hometown?

"You're going clubbing with Esmeralda this weekend?" Danny asked as conversationally as he could.

Stiles had been talking, Danny realized when there was suddenly silence behind him. Then Stiles scurried over and carefully but quickly shut his laptop screen. His cheeks were pink when Danny looked up at him and Danny had to admit that embarrassed was a good look on him.

"Maybe," Stiles muttered, heading over to his bookshelf and running a finger over the covers of the books. "You know, if nothing attacks us or the town."

Danny almost chuckled at the bitter note in Stiles' voice. "I didn't even know you knew her, or any of the queens," he admitted. A thought made him smile at Stiles' back. "But hey, this answers your question." Stiles turned around enough to give him a curious stare. "You asked if guys think you're attractive. I mean, they're drag queens, but they still identify as men."

The sound that came from Stiles could only be described as a sigh, though his shoulders did not sag and his posture was as straight as before.

"That doesn't count," Stiles said petulantly. "They see me as a little brother. They dress me up and try to get me dates and give me life advice. Which, by the way, never take Halo's life advice," he said with a grimace. "It's really really awful." He shook his head to clear it of the thought. "Do you find me attractive?"

Danny blinked once. "I'm taken, remember? By your alpha pack mate?" Not that he wasn't flattered that Stiles kept asking him that, because surely that meant Stiles thought _Danny_ was attractive, but he was barking up the wrong tree.

Stiles frowned, abandoning the bookcase momentarily. "No, duh, yeah, I know that. I was just wondering."

It had only been minutes ago when Danny had admitted to himself that an embarrassed Stiles was an attractive Stiles. And ever since he'd grown his hair out, Stiles actually could've rivaled Jackson for hotness, if he didn't speak or move – because then he flailed around and said something bizarre.

The older boy shrugged. "You're not bad," he told Stiles.

Stiles pouted. "Really know how to boost a guy's confidence, doncha?" he asked petulantly.

Danny chuckled. "Happy birthday," he said, in a way that seemed to be both an apology and a congratulation.

Stiles did his best not to look happy at the statement and turned back to his books to pull down one on defensive charms, effectively ending the conversation.

...

...

"Ethan."

The solitary twin didn't respond. He kept walking until he reached his locker without looking at anyone around him.

"Ethan."

Still nothing. Ethan opened his locker as if on autopilot. When the door popped open, Danny finally caught up and put a hand on the taller boy's shoulder. Ethan jumped and flipped his head around to see who was attacking him, calming when he saw Danny.

"Ethan, you alright?" Danny asked.

Ethan stared at him. "Um. Yeah. Fine," he muttered. "Sorry, I gotta-Ms. Harper-For Aiden. Uh, see you later."

Without removing anything from his locker, Ethan shut it again and wandered down the hall again, in that same listless gait and without seeming to realize there were people around him.

Danny frowned, turned on his heel, and went to the locker of the nearest member of the pack. A week ago, Danny would have gone to Aiden if there was something wrong with Ethan. Then again, a week ago, Aiden wasn't what was wrong with Ethan. At least now Danny knew Ethan had other people to turn to besides his brother.

He caught sight of Stiles rummaging around in his locker and gave a silent cheer. Scott would've been better, but the pack emissary was just as good. Probably.

"Stiles," he called easily as he reached the younger man.

Stiles made a curious noise while he stuffed things in his locker. Bottles of herbs, a wad of grey string, a faintly yellow liquid in a small flute bottle. Danny didn't want to know.

"Anyone find Aiden yet?" he asked. "It's been three days and Ethan's barely responding anymore. He's practically catatonic."

Now Stiles heaved an aggravated sigh. "No. Scott and Isaac have gone over the entire town with a fine toothed nose powered comb. Thing." He waved his hands around like that would dispel his last awkward sentence. "Allison and her dad have been tracking all the big game in the forest, but there's nothing like a werewolf or a big group of hunters passing through. Lydia doesn't have a clue either, which is actually good, since he'd probably be dead if she did."

Danny groaned and let his head fall face first into the locker next to Stiles', his forehead hitting the metal with a rather satisfying 'whump.' "There's got to be something more. There's got to be something I can do to help," he let out. "I'm losing him."

Ethan had never been away from his brother for so long. They were born together, they joined the alpha pack together, they lived together. Aiden was Ethan's anchor. The full moon three days ago had been a near disaster no one wanted to repeat. Danny still had the cuts on his arm to show for it. If they didn't get Aiden back…Danny wasn't sure Ethan would even survive until the next full moon.

Stiles snapped his fingers. "I've got an idea!"

Danny lifted his head from the lockers just enough to look at Stiles.

"I've got this book. It's Deaton's. I maybe kind of stole it, back when those kids kept going missing because fairies were kidnapping them and there was no scent trail to follow," Stiles babbled out quickly. "But the point is, I never actually used it, but I'm like ninety-nine percent sure there's a spell or charm or ward or whatever in there to track things."

"Then why haven't you tried it before?" Danny asked with a frown, anger simmering in his gut. "Why wait?"

Stiles rubbed the back of his head. "Deaton said they're dangerous. Really advanced stuff. I guess I've kind of been afraid to try it." He shrugged. "But it's my job as emissary to help protect and manage my pack, so I'll give it a shot."

"Good. I'll drive to yours after practice today," Danny said.

"You'll what?" Stiles gasped. "You're coming over again?"

Danny leveled him a with a 'duh' look. "My boyfriend is going through hell because someone kidnapped his brother using some plant that Scott told me is like poison to werewolves, and no one can figure out where he was taken or what happened to him. If there's a way for me to help out, I'm gonna do it. And, honestly, you can't stop me."

Stiles rolled his eyes so hard his whole body fell into the motion. "Fine. Fine. Whatever. After practice. See you there," he grumbled, shutting his locker with a bit too much force and walking away without a backward glance.

...

...

The book was hidden under his mattress. It had seemed like a good place to keep something he didn't want anyone to find and, as far as he knew, no one had. Turning around, Stiles regarded his audience with a barely contained sigh.

Danny was sitting at Stiles' desk, but that wasn't all. Oh no. Isaac was by the door, listening to make sure Stiles' dad didn't come in. Scott, Allison, and Lydia were scattered around his room. He didn't like having so many people in the same room where he sometimes slept naked.

See, what had happened was, Scott saw him and Danny heading off together after practice and wheedled what the plan was from them, and of course Isaac heard them with his big dumb werewolf ears, and then Scott decided that if the four were going to be there then it should be sort of a pack thing so he called Allison and Lydia to join them too. Ethan had been left out mostly because 1) Stiles' room was only so big and was already protesting the six occupants and 2) Ethan was so out of it that he probably wouldn't have made it to Stiles' house without help anyway.

Without sitting down, Stiles opened the book and flipped through the pages until he found one that sounded right. "Alright. This one says it can be used to locate anyone, no matter the distance or any countercharms, as long as they have some connection to the caster."

Allison leaned over to read the description, ingredients, and process as well. A frown pulled at the corners of her lips. "But Stiles, this says it's a really advanced skill."

"What's your point?" Stiles asked, though it had him a bit worried too.

"The fact that you said Deaton just let you start practicing level three charms and wards last week?" Lydia piped up. "Didn't you say this stuff went up to level ten?"

Deaton's emissary spells and charms and wards and things didn't actually have levels like in a video game, but it was the easiest way for Stiles to understand and categorize the stuff, and the others understood it too that way.

He nodded. "Well yeah. But you remember that other pack that came to town?" he asked, getting nods from everyone. They all remembered the kids being kidnapped by fairies, the Namir pack appearing and trying to break up the McCall pack, and how both packs together had fought the fairies off and saved the kids. "Matteo called me a capital S Spark. He said I was capable of powerful wards. Now I know we haven't actually figured out what a Spark is yet, but it's gotta mean I'm able to manage a tracking charm." He cast his eyes down the page again. "Besides, this doesn't even look that hard. I just need some-"

Breaking off mid sentence, Stiles moved through the bodies in his room to his bookshelf. There were several books there that had the middles cut out, specifically made for hiding bottles of ingredients. There was also a box, which looked like an xbox 360 console box, that had tons of vials of ash and bark and other plants. Deaton hadn't gotten into stones or animal parts yet, thank goodness, so nothing in the box was going to traumatize anyone. Still, the 'advanced' tracking spell only required plant materials.

"I need two bowls from the kitchen, one empty, the other filled with water," he said, snapping his fingers at Isaac.

Isaac bristled at the way Stiles ordered him about, but Scott gave him a gentle nod and Isaac begrudgingly moved to get the bowls. Stiles pushed everyone back until there was a decent space in the middle of the room for him to sit on the floor with his ingredients. He kept his back against his bed and reread the instructions again while they waited for Isaac.

"Your dad looked confused about the bowls," Isaac commented as he pushed the door shut again with his butt, "but he didn't say anything. Do you do weird stuff like this a lot?"

A shrug. "Eh, sort of. I put wards on the house two weeks ago and I think as long as I don't go around muttering and fondling the walls again he doesn't really care. I think."

He sat the water bowl a little distance away from him, the dry empty bowl close at hand. Into the dry bowl he placed a St. John's Wort flower, the leaf of a Buchu plant, three sunflower petals, a sprinkle of salt, a pinch of crushed amethyst stone, and five drops of pure Rose oil. Pulling a pack of matches from his pocket, Stiles struck one to light it.

This part took some belief on the part of the emissary, the book said. The flowers weren't exactly dry and salt and stone didn't usually burn, but they needed to for this charm to work. _It will all burn._ Stiles imagined it in his head and kept the idea of everything in the bowl turning to ash at the forefront of his mind as he dropped the match into the bowl.

It all immediately caught fire, making the other occupants of the room visibly jump.

"This is all looking a lot like a witch's spell," Lydia said. "Plants, crystals, the elements. A book of spells."

Without looking away from the fire burning, perfectly contained, in the ceramic bowl in from of him, Stiles said, "Well emissaries were once druids, and they were sort of said to be witches by later religions. Not that druids and witches are the same thing, but they share similarities."

Scott frowned. "You sound like Deaton," he noted. "You're quoting Deaton, aren't you?"

"Kind of hard to concentrate when people are talking to me," Stiles said instead of answering. Scott mimed zipping his mouth shut.

The flames petered out, leaving a pile of light colored ash that actually appeared to sparkle and had a pleasant smell. When Stiles was sure the ash was cool, he lifted the bowl of ash and poured it into the bowl of water. There wasn't a lot of ash, so the water didn't simply turn into muddy goop. Instead, it was almost like putting luster dust in alcohol. Stiles stirred the water with his fingers and the glittering ash swirled like fluffy clouds in a clear sky.

 _Last chance to back out,_ Stiles thought, then lifted his fingers from the water. His fingers carried the wet ash particles and shimmered in the sunlight coming through his window. _An emissary's job is to protect and assist their pack. I can't do that if I can't find them when they're in danger._

Keeping thoughts of each pack member in his mind, Stiles drew the infinity symbol on his forehead with his damp fingers. He would know where Aiden was, but this was a powerful spell and he should go big or go home. The entire pack. He would always know where they were. No need to prepare all this again, he would already have it. Everyone he cared about, everyone he wanted to keep safe. This was his family. It wasn't just him and his dad anymore, it was all of them. He couldn't protect the entire town, but he could do everything in his power to protect his pack.

Dragging his fingers away from his head, he mimed drawing the same symbol over his heart, connecting the logic and knowledge of his mind with the desires and constancy of his heart.

As soon as the infinity symbol was complete over his heart, a short and dull pain flared through Stiles' body. He gasped, more in surprise than anything else.

"What?" Danny asked. "Did it work? Do you know where Aiden is?"

Stiles frowned. Other than that quick ache, there was nothing. "No. I-"

His words cut off abruptly when his chest seized. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't feel his heart beating. He couldn't move. The dull pain from before raced through him a thousand times worse, setting every nerve alight. His chest felt like it was on fire, literal fire, and Stiles heard himself scream without feeling himself do it. The pain eclipsed everything else. His eyes must've been screwed shut because he couldn't see, and the darkness behind his eyes was instead a bright and blinding white. He couldn't hear anything apart from the sound of his own screaming or feel anything other than the pain in his chest and his body. Someone must have taken a brand to his skin because he felt like he always imagined it would be to be forced to swallow a red hot coal, only the feeling was everywhere.

He didn't regret attempting the charm. He barely remembered casting it. If hard pressed, he might have known his own name.

...

...

It happened so fast. One moment, they were driving along, Cora pissing Derek off by flipping the radio to a new station every thirty seconds, quicker if she got the impression he was enjoying the song. Then Derek's heart jacked up, his hands clenching white around the wheel. The next second, they were careening off the side of the road into a ditch.

Once they were stopped, sitting crooked in the ditch, Cora had a moment to process. She had a scant second of anger and almost shouted "What the hell was that, Derek?!" but realized that Derek's heart was still running scarily fast, his breathing was labored, and her anger turned to worry.

"Derek?" she asked.

His clawed hand ripped from the steering wheel to clutch at his chest. As he panted, Cora saw fangs instead of teeth, and his eyes were glowing bright blue and pained. On the side of Route 395, her brother was fully wolfed out and unable to control it.

"Derek!" Cora shouted. She forced his head to the side so they were looking into each other's eyes and flashed her own, golden eyes. "Snap out of it!"

She wasn't an alpha, but her stern order seemed to go a long way to calming whatever was wrong with her brother. There was no scent of blood or wolfsbane tipped arrow, no broken glass to signify an attack had happened. Whatever was wrong was internal, but he hadn't eaten anything in hours.

It took several minutes, but Derek was about to retract his claws and fangs, stop his eyes from glowing, and lose the excess hair and pointed ears. When he was breathing mostly normally again, Cora spoke up.

"What just happened?" It was half a question and half a demand.

Derek shook his head. "I don't know." He popped the door open and slid out of the Camero.

Cora frowned and exited the car as well. "What the hell do you mean, you don't know?"

Without a word, Derek moved to the front of the car and began to lift the nose of the vehicle. Cora huffed and helped him get the car out of the ditch. As soon as they were clear of this, she wasn't going to let her brother get away with this ignorant bullshit.

Surprisingly, Cora didn't have to wrestle it out of him. As soon as the Camero was back on the road and they had slipped into their seats, Derek began turning the car around to go back the way they'd come. Cora had barely lifted an eyebrow at the action before Derek explained.

"Something's wrong in Beacon Hills."

She frowned. "How do you know?"

Derek shook his head, his hands tight on the steering wheel but not knuckle white. "I don't know. I just do. I…I felt it."

She waited a pause, absorbing these words. Derek had flipped out because he'd somehow _felt_ something bad happen almost two hundred miles away? It didn't make sense. It wasn't logical. But they were werewolves and sometimes the normal world's rules took a back seat, she supposed.

"We're going back to Beacon Hills?" she asked. It had been Derek's idea to leave, to go find old friends of the Hale family and leave everything behind.

He nodded. "We're going back."

...

...

The first thing Stiles was aware of was his dad, standing in the doorway with a pinched expression on his face and his arms crossed over his chest like it was taking all of his willpower to stay there. The second was that Derek was not in the room, though later he would wonder why he noticed that, since Derek had been gone for weeks. Then came Deaton, leaning over to shine a light in his eyes.

"It seems young Mr. Stilinski isn't going to be leaving us today," the veterinarian stated, his tone sour like a bad grape. Making sure to stare Stiles directly in the eyes, he continued, "For which he should be extremely grateful," almost like it was a threat.

With a groan, Stiles rolled over and pushed himself up. He was in his bedroom still, but now he was on the bed rather than next to it. His chest felt funny, but other than that he was okay. "What happened?" he asked.

Scott and Isaac were at the foot of the bed like guardian sentinels, while Allison, Lydia, and Danny were across the room looking various degrees of terrified.

Deaton held up the book Stiles had gotten the charm from. "You decided to cast a tracking spell which I specifically remember telling you was too dangerous."

Stiles barely had time to feel ashamed of his actions before Scott spoke up. "You wouldn't stop screaming," he murmured, just loud enough for his voice to carry through the room. "You were crying and-and _writhing_ and it just got worse every time we tried to help. Then you got really quiet, and your eyes were open but you weren't responding."

"It was really freaky," Isaac added, like he thought he was being helpful. By Scott's nod, he was.

"Then Alan showed up and fixed it," the Sheriff ended, and it sounded like he'd been crying too, though his eyes were dry and showed no signs of redness.

Deaton shook his head. "I did no such thing," he corrected. "Stiles simply…powered through it. He tried a skill well beyond what he should attempt in ten years of training. Luckily, the spark in him is particularly strong. A weaker emissary would have died."

The sheriff looked like he was going to be sick and Stiles knew it would take some convincing for his father to let Stiles do more than go to school and come home for awhile. However, he also knew it would take at least a day for his dad to really process that he'd nearly lost his son in order to institute that rule. (They also both knew that as soon as the rule was put into effect, Stiles would be breaking it.)

"Capital S Spark for the win?" Stiles tried joking.

Lydia glared at him. "We were really worried about you, Stiles," she said like an accusation.

"We never should have let you try that spell. We knew it was too advanced, but we just stood there and let you try it anyway," Allison added, her voice sounding watery and thick. Scott moved to stand at her side instead of by the bed and she took his hand tightly in her own. Isaac frowned but said nothing.

Stiles felt awful about how worried they'd been. He couldn't imagine what it was like to watch him go through that. It had been hell to experience the spell itself, but watching it must've been a different kind of evil.

"Did it work?" Danny asked, quiet like he wasn't sure he was allowed to ask. All eyes turned to him, some angry and some curious. "Well, the vet said he powered through. Did the spell work or-?"

Deaton returned his eyes to Stiles, shortly followed by the others when he spoke. "Well, Stiles? Did it work?" He sounded so perfectly reasonable that Stiles was actually more afraid of him now than he'd been a moment before.

Did it work? The spell was to find people – the first person to come to mind was his dad, then Scott and the other pack members in the room, but that wouldn't tell him much since they were already there. Ethan popped into his head and he let out a shaky breath when his skin, but no, something deeper, a strange tingling in his bones maybe, occurred near his heart. And just like that, he knew Ethan was six streets over to his left.

He turned around like he could see through his own bedroom wall to Ethan's apartment six streets away. Then, that same tingling continuing, Stiles looked down at his own body. He shucked his collared overshirt and pulled off his The Flash t-shirt. He heard gasps around the room, but couldn't muster one himself.

Just to the left of his chest, right over where his heart lay inside his body, was what looked like a tattoo of a compass. It had the four cardinal points, except they weren't flat like when you held a compass in your hand. What was on Stiles' chest was, somehow, a flat image that was also three dimensional _and moving_. There were a dozen lines and arrows all pointing in different directions, most almost pointing straight out it seemed, with two apparently pointing toward some point behind him and to the right, one to his left, and another, thinner than the others, behind him to the left. They extended to different lengths, some short and fat, others long and thin. And bits and pieces of the compass spun around the center point, around the cardinal directions, which looked tilted at an angle with North off toward the right and further into his chest.

"Oh my god."

Deaton let out a hum. "Yes, I would say it worked quite well," he said, and he sounded proud of Stiles although it was obvious he was trying to hide it.

"What is it?" Isaac asked.

"Will that hurt him?" the sheriff added.

Stiles shook his head. "No it-It feels weird. I can feel it moving," he said. "But it doesn't hurt."

Deaton stood from his place on the bed. "It is sort of like…a spiritual compass. They are incredibly dangerous to create, but once they are in place, whoever has it can use that compass to find anyone they care for. With time and practice, they can even find people they do not care for, even people they hate. The hands of the compass will move with the motion of those they link to, a minor nuisance I'm certain Stiles will be able to ignore within a few hours. With intent, the compass will focus on his target, and that is something he will definitely feel moving."

"It's like my bones tingle," Stiles noted offhandedly.

With one last glance at Stiles, as if to tell him to stop talking, Deaton waved his hands at the room. "For now, Stiles should rest. He may feel fine, but that does not necessarily mean he is. I'll come back in the morning to check on him, but until then, give him space to sleep."

It was obvious no one wanted to leave, and Stiles almost contradicted the good doctor because he wasn't even tired, but then the compass gave a lurch in his chest and he snapped his mouth shut on the words. His dad gave him a big, long hug and quietly chastised him for 'scaring the shit out of me too many times' before everyone was ushered away and Stiles was left completely alone, his room dark but for the light slipping past the window blinds.

Stiles waited twenty minutes, counting the bumps on the ceiling and focusing on each pack member at a time. It was fascinating, feeling where the pack was. He could tell Scott was in his mom's car with Allison and Isaac was on Scott's bike because he knew how fast they were moving and in what direction. Focusing closer at hand, he could tell when his dad moved from room to room in the house. He got tingles deep in his chest every time he thought of a specific person, got laser focus on them, but he was certain he'd get totally used to it within a few days. Heck, maybe he'd just wake up in the morning already used to it – like when people got new lenses in their glasses or whatever.

When they had all stopped moving, when they were all home or at another pack member's house (Isaac, Scott, and Allison), he sat up and grabbed his cell phone. It rang twice before it was picked up.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," Danny chastised.

Stiles shrugged. "Well, I could do that, or I could tell you where Aiden is."

...

...

"The jackal may follow the tiger, but, cub, when thy whiskers are grown; Remember the wolf is a hunter—go forth and get food of thy own."

"What are you muttering?" Danny asked as he pulled his car to a stop just off the forest road.

Stiles shook his head. "This stupid poem Deaton taught me back when I first became his apprentice," he said. "I mean, I say it's stupid, but it seems to have a line for everything that happens in my life now."

Danny lifted an eyebrow at him and pulled the key from the ignition. "And how does that line have anything to do with us sneaking off on our own to rescue an alpha werewolf from an unknown enemy?"

A shrug and Stiles grinned at him. "Well I think the fact that I managed to pull off this wicked compass charm thing proves my whiskers are grown, so we're going out – we're going hunting – to get our own food – Aiden." Another shrug as he grabbed the door handle, but didn't open the door yet. "Besides, if he was taken by hunters, and they're skilled enough to get Aiden, bringing Isaac and Scott along wouldn't be good."

"Could've brought Allison," Danny noted before they exited the car.

The best Stiles could do was give him an embarrassed smile, since yeah, they could've, but he hadn't really thought of that at the time. Allison would be good back up against hunters, actually. She'd left Scott's house about five minutes ago, according to Compass A La Stiles.

"Call her to have her meet us," Stiles suggested. "Just in case."

Danny frowned even as he began a text to Allison. "It'll take her a half an hour to get here."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Well we're not going to just sit here and wait for thirty minutes. We're gonna figure out who took Aiden so that when she _does_ get here, all we have to do is take 'em out and bring him home."

"Sometimes I think you're actually crazy."

That earned Danny a grin. "It's one of the reasons people love me."

They were about two dozen feet from the car, with Danny having sent off a text to Allison, when Stiles let out a hum and rubbed his chest idly.

"She's on her way," he muttered, almost as if he weren't aware he was speaking at all.

"How can you tell?" Danny asked, curious.

Stiles gave a shrug. "Her line on the compass moved."

Danny watched Stiles while they walked. He wasn't limping or favoring one side. His shirt wasn't moving over where the compass was tattooed into his skin. Stiles just looked like Stiles.

"What does it feel like?" Danny asked.

Without looking at his traveling companion, Stiles said, "Strange. Like…my skin is….like the compass is alive. It's moving, and a part of me feels like it's moving too, but it's not my skin or my bones or anything." He frowned at a tree. "I can't explain it. It's like my insides are bigger than they were, like there's…there's more to me now." He shrugged one shoulder. "I kinda like it."

Danny didn't know how to respond to that. He couldn't imagine feeling like his insides were bigger than they were. Was that like a hole in your chest? Was Stiles now sort of like a TARDIS? Could you reach in and touch that new space or would your hand stop on his chest like always? And to have it feel like parts of his body were moving without his control? Danny wasn't sure he could handle it.

Stiles had always been a bit strange, though, so it wasn't surprising he was taking to this like a fish to water.

"Why would someone kidnap an alpha?" he asked, changing the subject instead of trying to figure out the compass anymore. "I understand hunters hate werewolves, so they'd probably like killing alphas, but why kidnap them?"

Stiles didn't even hesitate. "Kill an alpha, take its power."

Danny stopped walking entirely. "Can humans do that? Wouldn't that make them werewolves?"

Turning around to face Danny, Stiles continued, "There are ways to harness the power of an alpha without it turning you. It's…There's a way to contain it, but it's super confusing and I don't really understand it. Deaton's trying to teach me about it so I'm 'prepared' just in case, but all I can tell you is that it involves waiting until the alpha's strength is at its max – the full moon – and some rare ingredients, a bronze knife, and a hell of a lot of spark, like from several emissaries at once."

Part of Danny thought that Stiles, able to pull off the compass spell, could probably do whatever alpha power harnessing thing all on his own, but he kept that to himself.

"I'm assuming it kills the wolf," is all he said.

Nodding, Stiles put a finger to his lips. "Now shh. There could be hunters hiding anywhere in these woods and we don't want to get found before backup arrives and we know what we're dealing with."

Rolling his eyes at being ordered around, Danny mimed locking up his mouth and raised his eyebrows. Stiles gave him two big thumbs up before flipping around to continue following his compass toward their missing alpha.

...

...

The compass worked like a charm. They found an old country house that looked like no one had lived in it for years hidden away at the end of an overgrown path that must've once been a dirt road. For all the vines on the walls and dirt, and a few broken panes of glass, this house was much better off than the Hale house back in Beacon Hills.

Silently, Stiles motioned toward the house, telling Danny that Aiden was inside. If the compass in his chest was right, Aiden was in the basement of that house. He did his best not to think about how most of Derek's family died in the basement of their own home.

Stiles had already gotten used to the shifting of the lines on his chest. Allison was moving fast, the rest of the pack more sedately. The two lines that pointed in the opposite direction from Beacon Hills were also moving fast.

Derek, Stiles had realized. Those lines that pointed away from Beacon Hills must be Derek and Cora. He'd thought on it most of the way out into these woods. He'd wanted the compass to tell him about all the members of the pack, everyone in the world he gave two shits about, and it had included the last two members of the Hale family. Stiles' chest fluttered warmly at the thought, in a way that had nothing to do with his new tattoo.

It had only been a short while since he'd engraved this thing onto his being but Stiles could already push aside all the distracting movement and focus only on sudden changes or specific people. Which is why he was suddenly aware of the compass when one of the lines from Beacon Hills abruptly began coming in their direction faster than Allison. Stiles frowned and turned on Danny.

Danny was pulling his hand from his pocket. One look at Stiles' 'I'm going to murder you' expression and Danny at least had the decency to look apologetic.

"You told Ethan?!" he yelled as quietly as he could, the sound barely leaving his mouth but undoubtedly ticked off. "I thought we agreed not to tell anyone."

"It's his brother, Stiles," Danny whispered back.

Stiles made a motion like he wanted to strangle Danny but then just held his breath for several long seconds and let out a huge sigh of air, his shoulders drooping. Still frowning, he waved at Danny to follow him and then flipped around and headed toward the house.

There was no sign of hunters as they reached the house. In fact, there was no sign of anything alive. The door creaked when it opened and both boys paused to wince at each other before creeping further inside, leaving the door open so it wouldn't creak again.

The door to the basement was open. Stiles wondered, as they descended, why the dirt on the floor hadn't been disturbed upstairs. If hunters had taken Aiden, they would've either had to drag him in and leave a clean trail behind them, or carry him in and leave a lot of footprints for all the hunters it would take to lift that weight. Besides their footprints, there was only one other set. Since Stiles knew Aiden was down here, without a doubt, the single set of steps would suggest that he walked down on his own.

Or, more terrifying, that whatever or whoever brought him here was strong enough to carry that mass alone.

Down in the basement, there was enough light coming in through the windows near the roof that they could see relatively well. Aiden was immediately visible. He was chained by the neck, wrists, waist, and ankles to the wall by thick, heavy metal chains that kept him from being able to move, let alone rip free. More bits of chain were littered about the floor, as if whoever owned the house had planned for more prisoners. There were faint traces of mountain ash on the floor, though not enough to do more than make a werewolf sneeze a few times. It looked like someone had swept it away with a common broom, but Stiles couldn't see where they would have stored it.

There were dark marks around Aiden's eyes from lack of sleep and claw marks on the stone of the walls, blood stains on his hands and arms from his own claws, wounds that had long since healed. He was thinner than he had been, so his captors hadn't been feeding him much, if at all.

His eyes were already on them and he looked both surprised and terrified.

"Where are the others?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, tilting his head like he'd be able to hear the rest of the pack upstairs.

"Not here," Stiles answered, causing Aiden's eyes to snap back to him. "We figured it was safer if they stayed away."

From the manic look on Aiden's face, Stiles had a sinking feeling that three humans weren't going to be enough to get them out of here.

"We didn't want the hunters to get them too," Danny further explained.

Aiden let out a shock of sound. "Hunters? Hunters didn't get me. It was that bastard Peter." His eyes flashed weakly as he said the name.

Peter. Peter Hale. Shit, Stiles had forgotten all about Peter. He'd been gone so long that Stiles had figured he left like Derek and Cora.

"Call Ethan," Stiles ordered Danny quietly, looking around the room – now too dark for his comfort.

The chains gave a faint rattle when Aiden tried to surge up from the wall, claws and fangs out. "Don't bring him here," he snapped. "Peter's too weak to kill me, and even if he did, he wouldn't get what he wanted from me. If you give him Ethan too, it's over."

Danny cursed. "You're two halves of an alpha. Shit." He practically ripped his phone from his pocket.

Peter didn't have a line on Stiles' compass. Deaton had said it took practice to be able to find people you didn't like or hated, but dammit, Stiles needed to know where Peter was _now_!

The shadows shifted and Stiles jumped into action. He grabbed Danny by the shirt and flung them both sideways and to the ground just as Peter's claws slashed through the air where he'd been. Danny's phone smashed on the stone floor.

"Ah ah ah," Peter admonished. "You were so kind to send for Ethan earlier, I can't have you telling him to stop now."

Stiles' compass was seizing with all the movement happening. Someone had noticed they were gone and told the others. Or Allison told them. They were all on the move at once. Dammit, Stiles wished they'd brought a wolf with them. They'd done it to protect the pack, but now who would protect them from psycho uncle Peter?

" _Remember the wolf is a hunter—go forth and get food of thy own."_

Frowning, Stiles jumped to his feet and faced Peter, feeling a bit like David and Goliath. "You're not hurting this pack, Peter," he stated.

He bent over in pain, coughing, when Peter darted across the room and caught him in the stomach.

"This pack?" Peter repeated. "It will be my pack, as it was always intended to be."

Danny was trying to get the chains off Aiden's left wrist but having little luck. He glanced back at Peter every few seconds.

"It's not your pack," Stiles coughed out, standing up again. "You were never meant to be the alpha. _Laura_ was meant to be the alpha."

His head snapped to the side so hard and fast that Stiles actually stumbled and fell over. His cheek felt wet and Stiles cringed to think he might have claw mark scars on his face after this. He had to buy time though. Allison was on her way, the others were behind her. They might take awhile but Allison wasn't far off. And Stiles wasn't completely unarmed either.

"You don't get to talk about my family," Peter was saying. "You refused the bite. Poor, weak little Stiles, who could've had so much power. You could've been my beta."

Stiles glared at him and stood up again. "Screw you. I don't need to be a werewolf to kick your ass."

Now Peter looked proud. "You would've made a fine wolf, Stiles. So much spark." And then he sent Stiles colliding into the wall behind him.

Spark.

Stiles put his hand to his cheek, getting blood on his fingers, and then pressed it against the wall behind him as if trying to steady himself even though he was crumpled on the floor. With his other hand, he grabbed a bit of chain lying near him, unconnected to Aiden. The chains were too hard and short for a wolf to break through them, and Danny didn't have the keys, but Stiles had a spark. Stiles was _a_ Spark, whatever that was.

He was beginning to understand that it meant he could accomplish miracles.

"Aiden," Stiles said in a mumble.

He saw in his mind how the chains holding the alpha would crack, first on the inside and then on the outside, how they would shatter like glass. He felt the wall behind him and remembered how Matteo, the only other emissary he'd ever met, had complimented his wards and his abilities. He didn't need to do anything but believe. He believed. The chains were broken.

And they were. On the adjacent wall, Danny shouted in alarm as the chains holding Aiden broke into a thousand tiny pieces and fell to the floor. However, instead of giving them a new fighter against Peter, Aiden took one step in anger and then collapsed.

He was too weak. He needed food and water, and Ethan.

Peter snarled. "What did you do?" he asked Danny. "How?"

Stiles smirked at him with a patronizing laugh, drawing his attention away from Danny once more. "You've been away for awhile, asshole. Things have changed in the _McCall Pack_." He nodded and said, "Danny."

Without having to say it aloud, Danny knew what Stiles was telling him. Get Aiden out of the basement. Stiles would keep Peter occupied. He scrambled to his feet so that Peter would either pay him more attention than Danny, who was kneeling down to grab Aiden, or at least divide his attention between the two.

"You're an omega wolf," Stiles stated, feeling blood itch its way down his face and neck. "You couldn't kill Aiden at full strength, and you can't stand up to Ethan at half that."

Peter gave a self satisfied smirk. "You may be right, I'll admit. But omega or alpha, I am still stronger than you, Stiles. Your friend may have some skills, but you're still just a human."

So Peter thought Danny was the one to break the chains. Stiles could work with that.

"And you're just a zombie," Stiles shot back as Danny got Aiden slowly back to his feet. Peter's eyes narrowed at him. "Yeah, that's what they call a reanimated corpse, and it's exactly what you are. You're rotting. Death walking. Wasting away."

Suddenly Peter had him pinned to the wall, toes barely touching the floor, a hand wrapped around his neck just below his chin. His eyes flashed a weak blue. "The one thing I never liked about you, Stiles, is how much you let your mouth run away with you."

The truth hit Stiles as hard as Peter had. "I'm right, aren't I?" he asked, though it was more of a statement. It was hard to get the words out, but Stiles grabbed hold of Peter's wrist and hand to try futilely to remove it from his neck and spoke anyway. "There's nothing to you. You're losing your strength. Pretty soon, you'll be no better than a normal human."

For growing up and living in a house full of people that could tell when you were lying or upset, Peter was really bad at hiding his emotions. He growled and tossed Stiles across the room. Stiles hit the ground and slid hard into the wall Aiden had been chained to, just left of the broken chains.

"Stiles, Stiles, Stiles," Peter half chanted, cracking his neck as his wolf features overtook his face. "I do believe our conversation is at an end. I can't have your friend making off with my bait and I admit I grow tired of you."

Stiles put his hand to his side and felt the small vial in his pocket. All he had to do was open it and pour the ash out for Peter to be unable to go after Danny or Aiden or anybody else. He'd barely gotten his fingers into his pocket when Peter grabbed him by the wrist and pinned his hand to the wall above his head.

"I'm sorry, no ash today," Peter said. Stiles' eyes widened and Peter smirked. "Did you think I couldn't smell it on you? I used it myself to capture and contain an alpha. You would've been better using it first, before you made me angry."

A small nod. "Probably, but no one said I had common sense."

There was a small shout as Danny darted up behind Peter, swinging what appeared to be a short metal pipe at Peter's head hard enough that he actually dropped it after the blow landed. The crack sounded like it broke something, but Peter didn't look upset at all while his head was snapping sideways. They both watched the bleeding wound on his head heal in only a few seconds. Then Peter released Stiles just long enough to punch Danny in the gut and send him tumbling several feet back and clutching his stomach with a moan.

That didn't work any better than Stiles and his bat against the twins, except that the metal pipe didn't break.

Peter opened his mouth like he was about to go into one of his creepy monologues, but then a sound crept into the room like the moon over the horizon at night. A growl more animalistic than a wolf's, more dangerous. A werewolf, and Stiles knew instantly that it wasn't Aiden. Even without the compass to lead him, without the moonlight to see by, Stiles recognized that sound.

Derek Hale was in the basement with them.

"I thought you were headed for Canada, nephew," Peter said, calm as if they were meeting for coffee.

"I thought you knew better than this," Derek retaliated in a dangerously placid tone. His eyes flickered to Danny and then to Stiles, at which point they began to glow blue like his uncle's but much brighter. He glared at Peter. "I killed you once," and it sounded like a threat.

Then a third voice joined in. "That means I get to kill him this time, right?"

Stiles hadn't heard or seen Cora arrive, and it seemed neither had Peter because the eldest Hale gave a half flinch before turning his attention – though not his eyes – to his niece.

"Good to see you again, Cora."

"Wish I could say the same," Cora replied from where she stood near Danny, who looked like he wasn't sure if he should be happy or terrified that there were so many unfamiliar people in the room.

Oh right, Danny knew Derek as 'cousin Miguel' and didn't know Cora or Peter at all.

Without another word, the wolves all growled at each other and then the younger Hales darted forward to attack. It wasn't a long fight. Stiles had been right about Peter getting weaker by the day. Derek cut him across the front and Cora got him along his back, while Peter only managed a small cut to Derek's left arm. The two siblings nodded to each other and Stiles recognized it as their agreeing to kill Peter together, like Derek and Peter had done to Jackson once before.

He shoved his hand in his pocket, opened the vial of ash, and tossed it haphazardly toward the three werewolves. In a moment, Cora and Derek were shoved back from their uncle and Peter fell to his knees in a circular prison of mountain ash.

While Cora looked bewildered, Derek immediately turned angry eyes on Stiles. "Stiles!" he admonished.

Stiles didn't hesitate. He began to push himself to a standing position once more. "Don't 'Stiles' me. You're not the only one with a bone to pick with Dead and Creepy over there. He kidnapped a member of Scott's pack, Ethan's brother. He hurt Danny and me," he stated, motioning to where Danny was now standing up across from him and then to himself. "And I'm sure Aiden himself is pretty pissed off. You two don't get to kill him just cause he's family." He shook his head. "Speaking of which, actually, where's Aiden?" he asked Danny.

"He's next to the basement door," Cora told him. "We passed him on our way down, looking put out."

"I couldn't just leave you down here alone," Danny explained without apology.

Stiles almost answered, but suddenly he understood something. The two lines that had led away from Beacon Hills had been moving fast, and moving toward them. Since before he and Danny had arrived, Derek and Cora were heading this way. They'd been returning to Beacon Hills.

"You're back?" he asked, apropos of nothing to the others. "For good?"

For a moment no one answered. Danny took a moment to realize Stiles wasn't talking to or about him, and then began shifting his gaze between the Hale siblings curiously. Derek never removed his eyes from Stiles, but it was his sister who answered.

"At least for awhile," she said. "Seems things are more interesting here than we thought."

Nodding, Stiles let out a hum of sound. Then he thrust his arm forward and chucked a bit of broken chain at Derek. It bounced off the side of his head and clattered to the floor a few feet away. Derek's eyes widened and then he growled.

"What the hell was that for?!"

Unperturbed and unafraid, though Danny looked like Stiles had just signed his own death warrant, Stiles said, "I missed you, you idiot."

After a few silent moments, Peter chuckled wetly inside his prison. "A fine wolf indeed."

...

...

Derek checked over Stiles' cheek wound and Cora brought a clean shirt from the Camero outside to rip into bandages until they could get him to a doctor. Other than that, Stiles and Danny were just bruised. Sometimes more badly bruised than others, but just bruised all the same.

Allison showed up a few short minutes later, while Cora was overenthusiastically wrapping Stiles' face with torn shirt pieces, bow drawn and arrow notched. She nearly shot Cora in the instant before she realized who it was.

Ethan arrived almost directly after her. Cora and Danny had moved to sit with Aiden upstairs while the others guarded Peter downstairs (even though Stiles had insisted that his ash circle was enough, he was glad for the extra help). Ethan took one look at his brother and collapsed next to him. They pressed their foreheads together and simply took strength from each other for almost three whole minutes before they were able to pull away again.

Ethan immediately turned and pulled Danny into a deep kiss, then muttered 'thank you's into his lips and throat and ear as he cuddled with the two most important people in his life. Aiden gave only a nominal protest to the cuddling before he gave in and wrapped his arms around both his brother and his brother's human boyfriend.

And then, of course, everyone else arrived about ten minutes after that – courtesy of Allison's directions. Scott rolled up on his motorbike a moment before Isaac. Lydia and the Sheriff were in a police cruiser right behind them. Isaac took off his helmet and watched as Scott took in the house, the twins, Danny, and Cora.

"Aiden!" Scott called out, hurrying over to the boys still sitting clutching each other. "What happened?"

Aiden nodded. "Stiles and Danny found me," he said.

Scott almost asked how they'd found him so fast, when everyone with super sense had been searching for days, but then remembered the compass on Stiles' chest. It must work, and work well.

"It wasn't hunters," Danny told him, voice calm compared to Aiden's. "It was a wolf. Peter?"

It didn't escape Scott's notice how Cora tensed but said nothing. When Scott turned to her she simply shook her head once and lowered her eyes.

"Where's my son?" the sheriff asked tensely, shifting the conversation.

Stiles looked up when the whole group began to move downstairs into the basement again. He saw the stormy look on his father's face and grimaced. "I'm dead," he muttered. No one answered him.

Instead of getting yelled at, though, the sheriff just wrapped his son up in a hug so tight Stiles could barely breathe.

"The hell were you thinking?" the Sheriff asked thickly.

Stiles hugged his dad and gave half a shrug. "The compass works?"

His dad just gave a single, slightly bitter, laugh and held him tighter. Stiles wasn't sure if this would make his punishment later more severe or lighter, but he enjoyed the hug while it lasted.

As Scott made his way toward where Peter was once again standing in the ash circle, Allison lowered her bow and Derek took a step back to let him through. Even though the sheriff wasn't a werewolf, he seemed to sense the change in the atmosphere and pulled back from his son to watch what was happening. Scott kept his gaze level, not angry or scared or anything, as he stared Peter down.

"You know, you used to scare me," Scott stated.

Peter's lips curled up at the edges but he didn't smile yet. "Scott, that hurts. It really does." He touched one hand over his heart, getting blood on his hand even though the wounds from his relatives had long since healed. "We used to be so close."

Now Scott frowned. "We were never close. You attacked me in the woods and turned me into a werewolf, and then tried to make me kill my friends."

A shrug. "Avoiding the friend bit, you have to admit your life is much better with the bite."

Scott gave a short growl that made Peter's shoulders hunch a little. The other wolves in the room smiled at the unintentional show of submission.

"What the alpha pack did to gain power was wrong, Peter," Scott said. "Even if you managed to do what they did, if you killed us and became an alpha again …You were a bad alpha. You were a really, really bad alpha," he continued with a bit of a bitter laugh. "And now you're just an omega threatening my pack."

Peter held his hands up in supplication. "Are Derek and Cora your pack?" he asked, all innocent curiosity.

Scott glanced at them. The two Hales stared evenly back. No words were exchanged, no motions made, but when Scott faced Peter again he was confident.

"Yes."

"Then aren't I pack, too?"

Stiles stepped up next to Scott, though his dad tried to hold him back for a moment. "Nope. The magic compass left you out, so that means you don't qualify. You're out of luck, buddy," he ended meanly, an almost manic smile on his face.

He got a small nod of thanks from Scott for the support, even if Scott didn't totally understand what the compass had to do with anything.

"What're we gonna do with him, Scott?" Isaac asked, standing under the window where the moon was shining in.

Scott looked around at everyone gathered. Aiden and Ethan and Danny. Peter had kidnapped Aiden, causing Ethan to lose control and nearly killing Danny. Cora and Derek. Peter was their uncle and had killed their sister. Allison. Peter had killed her aunt. Lydia. Peter invaded her mind and used her to bring himself back to life.

Almost every person in this room had been hurt in some way by Peter Hale. He'd done terrible things. If he were human, Scott would hand him over to the sheriff and let him rot in jail for the rest of his life. But Peter wasn't a human. Peter was a werewolf and different rules applied.

"We're gonna let him go."

A general outcry sounded throughout the basement. Most of them stepped closer. All the wolves except Isaac let their eyes glow and growled along with their complaints. Lydia actually moved back from the bunch. Allison let out a shocked exclamation with widening eyes but otherwise stayed still and silent. Stiles put his face in his hands and said, "Why did I know you were gonna say that?" like it was a personal affront to him.

Scott shot a red gaze at every wolf in the room and they instantly shut up and backed away again. Sometimes he was amazed at how easy it was to command as an alpha. It was true power, but he was getting the hang of it he thought.

Turning his eyes back to a surprised looking Peter, Scott repeated, "We're going to let you go."

Peter's expression turned self-satisfied. "How kind of you-" but Scott cut him off.

"You're hereby banished from Beacon Hills. Forever," he said. "And if you ever come near any of us, or the town, or anyone we love, ever again…I'll let them have you."

He meant the rest of the pack and they all knew it. Scott wouldn't kill Peter himself, but he wouldn't stop the others from doing it if Peter dared disobey his orders. He knew they all wanted his blood and was doing the only thing he could think of to spare the wretched man's life. It would be up to Peter if he lived a long or a short one.

"Am I clear?" he asked, flashed red eyes at Peter to send the alpha message home. Peter wasn't in charge here and he never would be. This was Scott's territory now.

Peter glowered at him, but flashed his eyes and lowered his head in a show of submission. In a tone that sounded like the words were being ripped from him, Peter said, "Crystal clear…Alpha McCall."

...

...

All the windows and doors were locked in the Stilinski house and a werewolf sat guard in the living room. Bandaged and medicated in his bedroom, Stiles had to admit that his friends and his dad weren't exactly being paranoid about him leaving. However, with everyone on his compass safe and sound, Stiles had no more reasons to sneak out.

Speaking of the compass.

Stiles shut his eyes, blocking out the stunning view of his white bedroom ceiling, and focused. Isaac was downstairs, wandering around the living room. His dad was just pulling into the police station for his shift starting soon.

A few streets over, Aiden was resting with Ethan, Danny, and Lydia. He imagined they were all piled up together on the couch, or weirdly, in a bed. Lydia had acted calm and collected while Aiden was missing, but something about seeing him after the fact, seeing him weak and tactile, had broken down whatever wall was between Lydia and Aiden and she'd adamantly refused to let him out of her sight. Stiles was, amazingly, totally okay with it. He didn't quite trust Aiden not to hurt her, but he'd keep an eye out for it. What was amazing was that Stiles wasn't sad. His heart didn't lurch, knowing Lydia had made her choice and it wasn't him.

He moved on with his check ins.

Derek and Cora were at the loft. Stiles remembered the key to the loft that he had on the same key ring as the keys to his Jeep and the house, and Scott's house. He hadn't expected Derek to come back, and his heart beat faster remembering how Derek had come to his rescue earlier. It had been strange, almost too quiet even with near constant supernatural encounters, without Derek in town. Cora was new. They barely knew her. Stiles was actually looking forward to getting closer with her. She was Derek's sister and if Derek trusted her, if the compass counted her as pack, then that's what she was and Stiles would work at it.

Something in Stiles that had been raging for weeks was calm now that the Hales were back. He felt more grounded, more composed, than he had since he'd first opened the loft doors – intending to surprise Derek – and found the place empty. It felt good.

Moving his attention elsewhere, Stiles found Scott and Allison together at Scott's house. While trying not to think about what they were doing, alone, in Scott's room, Stiles suddenly realized someone was missing from the compass. Ignoring Allison, Stiles focused on Scott. From that compass point, he reached out and felt the compass expanding. A new line was forming, strong and steady. It reached across town to the hospital and Stiles smiled when he felt himself link up to Melissa McCall. His second mother, though no one could replace his real mom.

There, now he had everyone. From now on, no matter what, Stiles would be able to know where they were. They couldn't lose someone ever again. It was with the knowledge that they were all okay, and would all be okay for the foreseeable future, that Stiles finally drifted off to sleep.

...

...

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> **Next Time: The Ghosts of Regret**
> 
>  
> 
> The Pack is getting used to having a Monster of the Week, but nothing could prepare them to face off against their own pasts. Ghosts begin haunting the residents of Beacon Hills. Some are friendly. Most are not. Derek gets a once in a century moment when Paige shows up, while Scott and Allison must deal with the return of Allison's mom, and Isaac finds himself up against his worst fears. The resident expert on death will have to save the day, it seems.


End file.
